Library
Off to bury
Minds, spending time
Reading, soaring to imaginative levels
Harvesting curious ideas, challenging the devil
Experiencing many worlds, action always in a swirl
Around their setting, where the conflict can be upsetting
But when, the story comes to an end, happiness wins over the sin
If not in a hurry, destiny, visit the library, where the imagination will come alive, and cry
A good book is the way, to carry a day, under the sky blue, enjoying fantasies that are cool
The ads and displays are everywhere
crowding entries and doorways.
There are even commercials on monitors—
I can’t escape.
I rush in for a few items and conversation
but choices offered seem bigger than life.
Signs that say save and save
implore that you spend more.
I pass by an aisle of more types
of bread than I could imagine
leading to a myriad of types
of peanut butter.
I must confess I couldn’t find
the peanut butter with jelly
that delighted my tongue
when I worked long, hot days
with construction crews
some other time and place.
Every small town I passed
nestled along narrow highways
had a name on a water tower
as it pierced the sky.
I long to go to a quiet place
and list my memories
a collage of the life
I’ve known.
The shelves are packed
Not an empty gap in sight
The books are dusty
Men and women lie in the books
But the books are dusty
Little shelves in quiet minds
Hold unimagined worlds.
Night-time spurs their playtime jaunts.
By dawn, a tale reshelves.
At times, these tales may reappear
To flirt with daytime ponder.
If thoughts of ponder dare to shift,
A soul may act on a wonder.
And Fortune, guide a happy soul,
Who wears the wonder born
Of ponderings from shelf-life jaunts.
They’re rare as a unicorn.
She went searching for peace at the grocery store.
Those shelves were all empty, her people at war.
There were loaves of loss and heartbreak over by the bread.
"We have a sale on hatred," the store manager said.
She found boxes of empathy mixed in with the teas and
told the young cashier, "I'll take two boxes please."
She went searching for peace at the grocery store.
Those shelves were all empty, her people at war.
in a used books store
tomes of recorded history
line up on dusty shelves
"Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
~Winston Churchill
For: Bite Size Poem no.38 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
March 4, 2022
The world shrank
Into clusters of words
Into remote silence
Into piles of bulky pages
All stood neatly and politely on selves
Waiting and serving their admirers
Suddenly the internet broke in one day
And conquered them
But they remained silence
Still hoping for their old friends
To drop in one day
things seen on book shelves
they are always interesting
part of person's life
on books we will prey
with Meacham went all the way
just like LBJ
while in pool we splashed
after we would become smashed
then in our beds crashed
weather cold or warm
when they would raise a big storm
mob began to form
Spirit of America by Jon Meacham
they had grabbed their crotch
when what they started did botch
carved another notch
(my turn to stand watch)
she had been bossy
when they gathered up posse
eyes became mossy
for mush smooth sailing
climate control unveiling
fresh air inhaling
learned from a long list
read what Trump said do insist
me you should resist
would escape my mind
each tire were trying to bind
had been left behind
outside is raining
to control her complaining
she needs more training
to us never boon
Trump looked like a loony lune
sins stored in sand dune
We wear masks there is no doubt
thinking others could not abide
seeing us with ourselves let out
where warts and wounds reside.
Thus we are known but from afar
shame-stricken of our very being.
Fearful of leaving our egos ajar,
is that what others are believing?
Might they not assume us brave
to reveal our authentic selves?
Might they not themselves crave
to come off their lofty shelves?
If we would be honest and true
we'd trash the masks we wear.
We'd face the world wholly anew
and who we are we'd openly share.
(Written five years ago, long before
the virus hit. Now, I'm FOR the
wearing of literal masks.)
deck the shelves laid bare
with Merry Christmas decor —
moments to present
12/3/2018
A rainy day, is the perfect time
To escape for a while, to a place that is all mine
Above my head, A rocky sky
Imbedded in it, are florescent lights
Row upon row, in front of me
Are shelve of books, as far as I can see
Mystery, romance, Sci-Fi, and more
With each chapter, another story to explore
I close my eyes, and grab a book
And snuggle into my cramped little nook
A fairytale awaits for me
I wonder what this one will be
I find that with each passing hour
I lock myself deeper within my internal tower
I lose myself within the pages
But when I come back Its like I’ve been gone for ages
A heartfelt story, is all it takes
To make your heart pump, and fingers shake
Intuition helps me to relate
And levels off my overloaded plate
With each story, that I read
I unlock a hidden seed
I hear everything, taste, feel and smell
I’m slowly finding myself, within the book ridden shelves
House With Shelves
An interested person is one who delves,
Into buying a house with many shelves;
For us to live in;
Long time been;
We owned after being built by ourselves.
Jim Horn
Apocryphal embellishments of
a non-canonical secret society,
teeming amidst a dubious
enterprising authenticity,
exposure's excessed stormy decay of
tormented poet's crushing blows,
ego's wild oats fruitlessly sown
rampaged rush to save their own flesh,
poesy's wildflower blooms wilted
under acid rein's torridity of seduction,
hence poetry's infertile demise unto
dusty shelves' apathetic surrender
My book shelves are lined with gold
But not the kind you might think
No, the gold I speak of is much more valuable
It is made of paper and inks of many colors
It represents the efforts of countless writers
Some known to me, others unknown to me
All of these writers have one thing in common
They were all driven to speak to us, the readers
To disclose a story or poem trapped within their minds
By doing so they have enlightened us and provided inspiration
Now we embark on a similar journey to join them
Yes, join them on the book shelves lined with gold
Your words may never be shouted from the mountain tops
But then again who knows; mountains were made to be scaled
Remember, that to speak from within is a gift worth giving
While silence can only bring remorse
Here is an introduction to my poem:
Senator Cruz of Texas was using the
word cogent in the news recently.
People are taking pictures of themselves
and calling them selfies. I combined
these two items together and wrote
this poem. Here goes.
Around for a while we all would scout
Trying to find out what is was about;
When we arrived found a lot of shelves
With pictures people took of themselves.
Was it ludicrous what we seemed to miss?
Or instead of a selfy, showed up selfless
Trying to think we might be mystical
Some even said we had been egotistical?
Incredibly, you continue to say cogent
Never knowing what it may have meant
Before whole world soon came to an end
Great picture of me to you intend to send.
James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
PS.
May have to add Selfies
and selfy to my dictionary.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.